


Poetic Soul

by littlewonder



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M, Masculinity, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 16:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewonder/pseuds/littlewonder
Summary: Arthur was very aggravated at Merlin. "Poetry!" he cried. "Poetry!"Merlin just shrugged dumbly."Poetry!" Arthur cried louder. "You know what, just because you're a big girl, doesn't mean you have to makemeto be!"--Merlin tries to teach Arthur poetry. As usual, Arthur uses it to cut corners in romancing Gwen. Merlin is not pleased by this.





	Poetic Soul

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to [LJ](https://littlewonder2.livejournal.com/32641.html)

Arthur was very aggravated at Merlin. "Poetry!" he cried. " _Poetry_!"

Merlin just shrugged dumbly.

" _Poetry_!" Arthur cried louder. "You know what, just because you're a big girl, doesn't mean you have to make _me_ to be!"

"What makes you think I like poetry?" said Merlin sweetly, and it just made Arthur angrier, like Merlin was really that dumb.

"You seem the type. You probably go around everywhere reciting it. I bet you've bored Gaius with it once or twice."

"And that's how I came up with it, is that it?" said Merlin. "I sneak around in the halls at night because I don't want anyone to know I recite poetry?"

Arthur gave a crazed gesture, eyes wide. "Maybe."

"And then I dragged you along? And then I blabbed my big secret to Leon --"

"And now he's telling everybody!" cried Arthur. "All the knights are laughing at me!"

Merlin shrugged. "If you like, I could go over there and set them straight on what we were really doing there."

"Oh, no," said Arthur. "I don't want you to make this any worse. Next you'll be telling them that we..." Oh. He really didn't want to go there. Images of them galloping through the halls like lovers invited him, and he tried hard to push them away.

"What?" said Merlin.

"Nothing."

"You know, poetry isn't as bad as you think it is. Maybe you _might_ be surprisingly into it."

"A-ha!" cried Arthur. "So I was right! You do like poetry!"

Merlin gave him a sideways glance, full pout and narrowed eyes aimed at him. "No," Merlin lied. "But maybe it might help playing to your new reputation if you at least gave it a shot. I could borrow some poetry books..."

Arthur looked at him, fuming.

"Don't know what you're missing..." Merlin said lightly.

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Great! I'll check out the library!"

"Wait -- I didn't mean --"

Merlin was already bursting from the field. "Merlin!" he cried. Merlin just completely ignored him, creeping closer to the castle.

Fine. Merlin could waste his time. It would only mean that he'd have to work harder later.

\--

Merlin left poetry books laying around Arthur's bed chambers. "What is this?" asked Guinevere.

Arthur examined the book she had picked up, then stiffly rolled his eyes. "Merlin left that there," Arthur explained, embarrassed. "I'm gonna have him take that back --"

"I like this new sensitive side of you."

Arthur froze. "You... you do?"

"Yeah," Guinevere smiled. "Can you read me one?"

Arthur stirred, nervous. He didn't even know how to read the stuff. "Sure. Put it by the bedside. I can read it to you tonight."

Guinevere seemed to be content with that. "I can't wait."

\--

"I need you to teach me this stuff," Arthur told Merlin when he had finally managed to track the little moron down. He held up another of the poetry book.

He hated the smirk that came to Merlin's face, the lit up eyes as they fell upon him. "Finally come around, did you? I knew you couldn't resist --"

"Not for me, you idiot," said Arthur. "Guinevere wants me to read her some."

A flash of smugness passed over Merlin's face. He visibly fought a grin. "I think it's great that she's supporting your new hobby."

Arthur came within inches of Merlin's face, full of rage. "This is not funny. And it's not a hobby!" he hissed. "It was just one lie. Why are you shoving it down my throat?"

"You're the one who came to me."

"Just -- teach me to read this poetry."

Merlin's grin stretched wider. "So we really will be doing what Leon thought we were?"

It took every ounce of strength from Arthur just to ground out, "Yes."

Arthur ordered the throne room cleared out and guarded from entering. He sat in his throne with Merlin standing in front of him. "Okay, start reading."

Merlin grinned again. "As you wish, sire," he teased, and opened the book to a random page.

Merlin read:

If I had but a chance to express to you  
Everything real and all that's true  
I could show you hidden pastures  
Gilded skies and noble sirs  
I could give my soul to you  
Just by telling you the truth

Years by years and days by days  
A cold dead weight has burdened ways  
For me to live, to love, to dream  
And wash my guilt down blessed stream  
If just one thing to give to you  
My heart would speak e'erlasting truth

Arthur blinked. Had that actually come from Merlin, or was that truly hidden there in that book?

He stood strolling back over to see the text. His eyes scanned briefly over it before he confirmed it with a nod.

"It's my favourite poem in that book. Gwen will probably want to know yours, too," said Merlin. "So I thought it was a good one to start with, since I assume you're on a schedule."

"Yes," said Arthur bluntly. "How am I supposed to find a favourite?" he immediately blurted out.

"You could try by looking through. Or I could read more? Is this the book you're reading to Gwen?"

"No, I... left that by the bedside."

"Then we could just spend time figuring out what kinds you prefer."

"What I prefer? What, is there a difference?"

"Did you even feel anything from what I read?" asked Merlin.

"No, not really."

"There are differences, trust me."

They peeled through from poem to poem. Arthur preferred punchier, blunter poems. Anything that felt active. They wandered back to Arthur's bedchambers to pick up the other book, and they searched for a new favourite.

"This one," Arthur finally decided.

\--

Arthur settled beside Guinevere in bed, picking up the book and turning to face her. The room was lit with candles he asked Merlin to leave burning, and the darkness settled over them like a blanket. Damn, he was starting to sound like Merlin.

"Here's my favourite one," he told Guinevere, and prepared himself to read it out loud. Earlier that day, Merlin had made him take turns reading, so that he got settled into reading poetry, and Arthur was still a bit unsure.

He cleared his throat theatrically.

"My love is virtuous  
My love is pure  
My heart is watching us  
On moonlit shore  
Enflamed desire  
Red satin dress  
As fierce as fire  
My heart's a mess"

Guinevere smiled back. "That was so... _romantic_. Is that how you feel about me?"

How would Arthur know? He just liked it, he didn't write it. "Yeah," he lied.

Guinevere raised an eyebrow at him, head tilted forward. "You don't sound very sure."

"Well, I'm... yeah, it's about you."

"Are you sure you're really into this poetry thing? You sure you didn't rope Merlin into doing this with you?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Damn. She could see right through him. "I really do love that poem."

"Why?" asked Guinevere.

"What do you mean, why? Because it's short and to the point!"

"So you just chose it randomly, because of the style," asked Guinevere.

"No!" cried Arthur. "I like it because... I don't know, I can imagine it."

"You can see inside the poet's head. You can feel what he's talking about."

"Yeah..." said Arthur breathily, astonished how much Guinevere seemed to understand.

"What do you feel?" she asked. "What is it you feel that makes you relate to this poem, if it's not me."

"I..." Arthur had to think about that one. He wasn't sure, just like with everything about poetry. He didn't as readily understand it as readily as he did sparring, for example.

He read over it again. Moonlit shore... He'd been with Merlin to the beach once... But he sure as hell wasn't wearing a red satin dress...

But he did always wear that red scarf...

"I..." repeated Arthur dumbly. He was beginning to think like Merlin. Maybe this was what made Merlin so empty-headed all the time... Too busy thinking about poetry. He really was just like a girl.

Arthur liked girls...

"I don't know," said Arthur flatly, not wanting to voice any of this. He had known Merlin for years...

"Well, let's break it down," Guinevere suggested. He wouldn't be surprised if this was all a little joke, a little prank on Arthur. They both read poetry together, talking about it, reading it... "My love is virtuous/My heart is pure," Guinevere quoted. "Sounds like you. You relate to the nobility of it, obviously..." she said.

"Obviously," he said bluntly.

"I think you probably think of your love like this because that's what you think it should be. It's as idealistic of you as the round table. Do you have anything else to add?"  
Arthur blinked. Yes, he was idealistic. Did that mean he was kidding himself over who he was inside?

"No, go on," he lied.

"My love is watching us/On moonlit shore," Guinevere quoted again. Merlin... watching us...

"I think this is leading on from the last two lines," said Guinevere. "You're self-conscious about your love and your ideals. The beach is a metaphor for the way you romanticise it, but you have to keep yourself in check in order to keep to your principles."

It was? "I thought you liked that about me."

"I do," Guinevere agreed. "I just think that you take it too seriously sometimes. That maybe you're afraid to let go and be true to yourself too."

"I see," said Arthur seriously. "I'll keep that in mind. Keep going."

"Okay," said Guinevere. "Enflamed desire/Red satin dress. At first I thought that was me, but maybe that more of an expression of how you feel on the inside, romantically," she suggested.

"You think so, do you?" asked Arthur.

"Well, you're the one who loves the poem. Am I right so far?"

Her interpretations weren't exactly what he had been thinking of when he chose it, but she hadn't said anything that wasn't true so far. "Yes," he said. "And you were right about you being the one in the red dress. Sort of regal."

"So I was right the first time --"

"Keep going," said Arthur. He was starting to enjoy this, and he liked Guinevere looking into him, figuring him out. It felt so... intimate. He tried to ignore that he had had similar moments earlier that day with Merlin.

"As fierce as fire/My heart's a mess," quoted Guinevere. This time he had barely listened, enraptured by her voice and the movements of her lips. Her gorgeous lips, her dark skin... Those last words spoke for themselves. He almost refused to listen to her analysis of them, but he needed to know what she thought. There was nothing about her he wouldn't die to learn.

"I think," she said, "that by the end of the poem, you've finally realised that your ideals have come down the basest part of you, and that's where your ideals are torn apart. You are fully engorged on who you really are, you are completely in the moment, and only then can you give all of your heart..."

"To you," Arthur completed his sentence.

\--

Arthur was rudely awakened in the morning, to find Guinevere was already up and gone, and it was just him and Merlin alone in his chamber. "Morning, Arthur," Merlin chirped.

"What are you so happy about? Where's Guinevere?"

"She's already up and performing her duties. She can get dressed without a servant, you know. So how'd it go last night, by the way?"

"It went fine," ground out Arthur.

"Did she buy you as a poet?"

"As it would happen, no. You should've prepared me for her questions, Merlin."

"Oh, so sorry of me. I was too busy scrubbing your floors and cleaning your clothes, I guess. Oh, and spending all of yesterday teaching you poetry," he said.

"You enjoyed teaching me poetry, don't you even deny it."

"And I suppose you enjoyed learning it?"

"Oh, god no," said Arthur. "But it was for Guinevere, so..."

"But according to you, it didn't work out with Gwen," Merlin pointed out.

"Shut up, Merlin, it worked out fine. She... taught me what you missed."

"And so now I suppose you're interested in poetry. I mean, if it's _her_ teaching it to you..."

"Oh, don't act all jealous, Merlin, it's not a good colour on you."

"Jealous? Jealous of what? I thought you didn't _like_ poetry."

"I don't --"

Merlin simply smirked. "We've hooked you," he said.

"No, you haven't!"

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm -- I'm not!"

Merlin grinned. "Sure."

"Okay... okay, fine. Poetry's not... too bad."

"Did she like your poem?"

"Yeah," said Arthur. "She did. She thought it was about her."

"I'm guessing that's where the questions came in."

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"How would you like to write her one?"

Arthur looked at Merlin as though he were mad. "Wha-- No, I couldn't do that. I'm a king. Best to leave the poetry to the bards..."

"I'm not a bard, and I write it."

Arthur gaped at him. "You... write poetry?"

"Yes, I do," said Merlin.

"Can I hear one?"

"I have them written down in my room. If you like, I can..." he pointed the door with his thumb, as though leaving, "get one now if you like. Of course, it might mean dressing yourself."

"No, no, that's... quite alright. Bring it to me this evening to read."

"Will do."

\--

"You don't mind that Guinevere's here, do you?" asked Arthur, as Merlin entered with the poem in his hand. He was looking at Guinevere as though she were a hunter, and he a deer.

"I... I was just meant to read for you," said Merlin, frightened out of his tiny little mind.

"It's alright, she doesn't mind if it's terrible. She'd probably give you a better time than me, in fact. Go on, read now."

Merlin looked between them indecisively. "Read, Merlin," Arthur said more forcibly.

Finally, Merlin gave in, and began reading.

"For years I've known you  
In the trees and in the moon  
I see you in all that I do  
It's my destiny to be with you..."

Merlin looked fleetingly up at Arthur, then back down again, embarrassed. God, he wished they didn't see through him. This had been a mistake. God, Gwen being here was the worst part. At least Arthur was oblivious.

"My love is my great power  
You my reason to live  
Ticking to the last hour  
I have everything to give"

Merlin simply wasn't looking now. He couldn't think too much about this...

"For years I've known you  
Our bond is growing stronger  
Don't fear, when I'm with you  
My power burns ever hotter

I'd fight until the death  
If you'd live in my arms  
My heart burns like the ether  
As long as you're in charge"

Hesitantly, Merlin lowered the paper. Arthur was gaping at him, Gwen was simply in shock. Merlin simply stood, saying nothing, waiting for them to speak. Waiting to find out if he was caught, red handed.

"Merlin, that was... beautiful. Where did you ever come up with it?" asked Gwen. Of course she would have opinions about Arthur and not him

"Yeah, Merlin, that was... actually pretty good. You're not too bad at this poetry thing, are you?"

"Not too bad?" said Gwen. "He was brilliant. Who was it about, Merlin?"

They were staring at him now, waiting for his answer. He was really deep in it, now. "It -- we--" Merlin couldn't speak. How could he ever explain how he felt?

"Come on, Merlin, we're waiting," said Arthur.

It was still raw, like his voice when he'd read. He supposed his love for Arthur always would be, no matter how much time passed. He had no words. So instead, he mumbled, "No one..."

"Aw, come on, Merlin, it was obviously about someone..."

Then suddenly, Arthur turned to Gwen. "Unless..."

Oh God, here it came...

"Unless it's Guinevere."

"What?" cried Merlin.

"It makes sense. She's the reason you didn't want her here, right? Well, I'm sorry, Merlin, you can't have her --"

"It isn't Guinevere!" cried Merlin defensively.

"Then who?" said Arthur.

Merlin's head dropped again.

"Merlin... if you don't tell me, I'm just gonna assume it's Guinevere. And if that's the case --"

"It's you!" he cried, head snapping up.

He regretted it at once. Arthur's expression fell. Guinevere's looked confused. "Could you excuse us for a minute, Guinevere?" asked Arthur.

"Yeah, of course," she said, still in shock. She moved to the door, shaken, then exited. Arthur turned on Merlin. "What do you mean, you love me?"

"I -- I didn't mean it. I mean, I didn't mean it like that."

"Cut the lies, Merlin, I heard that poem. Is that what you were trying to tell me all along with all this... _poetry_?"

"Oh, are you saying you don't like it now? Just because of this?"

"Just?" cried Arthur. "You just told me you loved me! I mean, 'My love is my great power... I'd fight to the death...'?"

"Arthur..."

"No. There is no..." he shook his head. "No. There has to be some other explanation."

"It isn't about anybody," said Merlin. "I tried to tell you that. But you wouldn't listen, so I had to come up with some answer..."

"Why say me, then? You could've said any girl in the kingdom, but no, you chose me. You meant it, Merlin --"

"No, I didn't --"

"You said it without even thinking, Merlin. You said it too quickly to have any plan in mind, however ill-brained. You meant it."

"Fine, I meant it. Can we just go back to how we were?"

Arthur paused, thinking. "Merlin... the man in that poem did hold any sense of self in him. You can't live that way, Merlin. I'm not your only reason to live."

"Does that mean yes?"

"Fine, yes, let's forget any of this ever happened. But Merlin... I'm gonna find you another reason to live. Besides me. One of the things I always liked about you was that you always speak your mind. Where's that Merlin?"

"Right here," he forced an uneasy grin.

"I'm gonna teach you to live, Merlin. That's a promise. You need to learn to live for yourself in that poetic soul. There's a lot in you I would sacrifice myself for. Your heart is too good..."

"My heart is my power," Merlin grinned.

"I thought that was your love."

"That too," Merlin laughed.


End file.
